Chronicles of Rain
by Raina Frost
Summary: an allegory. format: Poem there really isn't much to say, because its a poem, its chaotic but the point is really there. is there anything i can say to compel you? check it out, please. i would appreciate it.
1. Vampiric

Vampiric

Drench me in holy water  
Let its burning anguish wash over my head,  
Screaming into my soul with dismal abandon.  
Let it clog my throat and make me drown.

Resurrect my heart, make it beat,  
One contraction after another,  
A muscled seizure –  
Stake it.

Allow the cross to burn my hand –  
Make me feel again.  
Make this skin blaze with anything other than yearning –  
Longing, reaching, seeking, draining.

Frailty of the human visage  
Easily crushed under domineering fatigue,  
Dragged through the mud  
By the horse that saved one from utter demise.  
Can I not swing the way I wish?  
Feet down, head held up, sway – side to side.

Decease.  
Death.  
Expire  
Perish,  
Pass on into life,

Rebirth;  
Drained by the wrathful God Edward rants about.  
An arrow strained at the heart,  
Penetrating, precise, tearing, bursting, my skin awash with blood,  
A fountain,  
Justice can never be served  
Until the dead are laid to rest.

Hang me.  
Put me up like an ornament:  
Display me, hands, feet, waist, neck, face.  
Make them spit,  
Make them throw stones,  
Make me feel.  
Make me the pillar of Creation.  
Of ignominy.

Let the children walk by and make faces at the price of redemption.  
Purgatory in all its sweet glory,  
Exempt from my flesh,  
Deeply buried in the bone,  
A hum like a crooning whisper of a God I've never known  
Singing angelically in my ear.  
The Devil cackles.  
He knows to whom I belong.

Save me, force foul creations into my mouth,  
Make it sear my throat as it descends:  
Concoctions made of Fear  
That would purge the raging fire burning beneath the skin.  
A throbbing, flickering, all encompassing ardor  
Belying the tribulation of my circumstance.

I die while I grin psychotically fill to bursting with enjoyment.  
A balloon filled with water.  
Shackle me in silver chains, silver spikes,  
Silver cross,  
Shoot me between the eyes with a silver bullet,  
Parade my head around the town on a silver platter,  
Shout, "The Vampire is dead!"  
Rejoice in my demise.

Time's stopped,  
Opened his heavy-lidded eye and smiles cruelly at me,  
Holding me suspended between the world of the dead and of the living,  
A coma of Death.  
An intaglio branded into my forehead.  
Redeem my flesh, if not my soul.  
Make the dead, united with the dead.

* * *

Raina Frost 


	2. Bowl of Blood

thank you much for reviewing it, both of you, RaVyn and axbrokenxsmile. glad you liked it.

* * *

Bowl of Blood

Cloying scent, reaching, coaxing;  
Relieving the pressure twisting inside:  
Golden curves and enticing ripples.  
A hazy reflection -  
A pinprick of blood in the eye (a story untold)  
A tear drooling down the cheek.

A reflection of guilt;  
A terror in the heart  
A pain rushing through the veins.

My heart does not beat;  
But it can bleed – oh, how it bleeds!  
My scarred lungs – black as death,  
Unmoving, unbreathing, -  
A shriveled mass of decayed tissue.

The bowl jerks,  
My throat convulsively twists, swallowing  
Each savoring drop.  
Drip,  
Drip,  
Teeth gleaming red, stained with death.  
A vicious joy!  
I lick the bowl clean like a leech.

A clatter rings out, the golden bowl crashing to the floor:  
On its side, blood leaking between the crack in the Earth,  
Dribbling blood, feeding blood, to the hungry maw of her omnipotence.  
The Giver of Life, feeding as greedily as I do  
With as much zest as I would stare upon the meal lain before me.

The irony is not lost on me.


	3. Melancholy

Melancholy

Darkness surrounds,  
A blindness of the soul,  
Emphasizing the circular rotation  
Of Earth, Moon, Sun, and Stars –  
Glaring down on the life of an abomination.

Walking this world:  
Short legs, Short waist, Short arms.  
Short! Short! Short!

Not tall enough to reach the top,  
Stuck in the rain with the muck clogging the boots.  
Not tall enough by half,  
To reach up to take the cup of redemption,  
Shunned from the light and huddling in the shadow,  
With only melancholy for company.

* * *

A/N : i know its short, but its necessary, the other two chapters will be up soon, and i promise they will be better - and a little bit on the long side. 


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